


You always count

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scenes, Post-The Sign of Three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some missing scenes from John's wedding. The story was written BEFORE the air date of "His last vow", please mind that :) No slash, just a bit of fluff, friendship and a splash of humor</p>
            </blockquote>





	You always count

**You always count**

It took a few dances and a short break for a drink before John looked around and realized what was wrong.

                “Where is Sherlock?” he asked, frowning. “Mary, have you seen him?”

                “I think I saw him taking his coat some time ago,” replied Janine instead of Mary. “Maybe he just went to catch some air.”

                “Damn it,” cursed the doctor, violently leaving his unfinished drink.

                “What is it?”

                “Sherlock never just goes to ‘catch some air’ without a reason,” he explained. “Where would he go? He was doing so well today.”

                “Maybe he’s somewhere here?” tried Mary. “I don’t know, went to talk with Greg or something...”

                “I doubt it,” grimaced John. “It’s more probable he just came to a conclusion that he fulfilled his duties for today and decided it was better to leave before he ruined something. You did see how he was panicking.”

                Of course, Mary saw that as clearly as John. They both knew that Sherlock was more nervous about the wedding than they were. He had many reasons, and John guessed most, if not all of them. Sherlock, though he was more human and open to people around him, was still Sherlock, and the mere thought that something could go wrong at John’s wedding was making him sick. As did the wedding itself. Though the detective got along with Mary and he got used to the idea of having her around along with John Watson, he was scared anyway.

                And right now he just left the wedding.

                “Where would he go?” Janine was visibly displeased. “He just told me he likes dancing, so why would he leave?”

                “I don’t like it.” John took his phone and dialed Sherlock’s number, but all he got was his voice mail. “Sherlock, you utter idiot, answer!” he hissed helplessly, but Sherlock couldn’t hear him and therefore didn’t care.

                “What’s wrong?” Greg joined the group by the table. “Where’s Sherlock?”

                “That’s what’s wrong,” replied Mary. “He just vanished. Took his coat and left.”

                “Shit.” The inspector reacted just like John did. And just like John, he removed his phone from his pocket.

                “He didn’t reply,” said John, but Greg tried calling anyway. With no success.

                “Then maybe he will text back,” he muttered, typing a quick message. “John, Mary, go back to dancing. And don’t worry, I will find that bastard,” he added quietly.

                “This is my wedding and my friend who promised to be here and vanished, so excuse me, but I am worried,” snapped John.

                Greg’s mobile vibrated and everyone leaned over to see a text.

                ‘ _Busy’,_ that was all the message said. John and Greg exchanged glances; they both thought about one thing. This could be a danger night.

                “Bloody hell, tonight?” asked Greg in disbelief. He dialed Sherlock’s number again. “Oh, come on... It’s pointless, he’s not answering,” he said unnecessarily and he typed an answer.

                _Come back, you’re worrying us._

Greg waited a moment, and when he didn’t get a reply, he texted again.

                ‘ _Where are you?’_

This time Sherlock replied at once.

                _Not important. SH_

                “I will find him,” said Lestrade again. “John, I’m going to get him and I’m bringing him back in here, even if I have to drag him.”

                John looked like he wanted to go with him, but he gave up. Everyone was right; it was his own wedding, he couldn’t leave.

                “Greg, even if he’s...” he started, but Lestrade didn’t let him finish.

                “I will bring him anyway,” he promised. “Go back to dancing.”

                Lestrade took his phone, and once he was outside, he typed another message.

                _I’m coming for you. I’m alone now, so tell me where you are or I will use every possible way to find you, you know I can._

                Greg didn’t fancy long messages, but since Sherlock bothered to read them and reply... This time he replied too.

                _You know where to find me. SH_

                The inspector got to the street and caught the first nearby taxi.

                “221 Baker Street,” he snapped at the cabbie. “Police, hurry up!”

                “Just an intoxicated wedding guest,” snorted the driver. The next thing he saw was Greg’s license right under his nose.

                “I was privately on the wedding, right now I’m at work,” hissed Lestrade. “221 Baker Street, now!”

                Fortunately the cabbie believed him and drove without asking further questions.

                Before they got there, Greg called John and promised again he would bring Sherlock back. H sincerely hoped that the detective didn’t lie to him. And that he was presentable enough to go to the wedding.

                The light was on at the first floor, so there was a chance that Sherlock was at home. Greg ran upstairs, as the doors were open. He typed another message to John, ready to send it.

                _Got him._

                Sherlock was sitting in his armchair and ostentatiously playing with a syringe. He was wearing only a shirt, his coat and jacked laying on the sofa. His rolled sleeve just told Greg that he came too late.

                “How much?” he asked, resigned. “And what?”

                “Not much,” replied the detective without a hint of guilt. “Far too little, to be honest.”

                “Definitely not,” snarled Lestrade and he violently took the syringe from Sherlock’s shaking hands. “Where’s the rest of it?”

                “I don’t have more.” Sherlock entwined his hands to prevent them from shaking.

                “Yeah, like I’m going to believe you,” snorted Greg. He took Sherlock’s jacked from the sofa and handed it to him. “I will make a drug’s bust tomorrow, right now just take it and come on.”

                “What do you want from me, Lestrade?” Sherlock rose from his armchair and stormed past Greg. His fingers, free again, twitched nervously. “I’ve run out of abilities to cope with social interactions for today. Just go back and have fun and leave me...”

                “... alone, so you can drug yourself in peace?” finished Greg roughly. “Not in this lifetime. Just put it on and come, everyone’s waiting for you.”

                It seemed Greg didn’t say anything special, but Sherlock literally froze. He stopped in the entrance to the kitchen so suddenly he almost lost his balance.

                “Do you really...”

                “Do I really want you to come back with me and have fun on the wedding?” finished Greg. “Yes, I do, because you gave us a fright. And Janine seems to think that you promised to dance with her.” The last one wasn’t exactly a truth, but Greg decided he could play a little.

                “I don’t think it’s a good idea... Greg,” said Sherlock, stepping back towards his bedroom. “I’m...”

                “Just a bit intoxicated,” added the inspector, but then he realized what Sherlock had said. “So you do remember my name!”

                “From time to time,” admitted Sherlock, not meeting his gaze. Greg couldn’t help the feeling that Holmes was a bit dumped in the face. And certainly lost. He really must have left the wedding convinced that he was no longer needed.

                “Let’s go.” The inspector rushed him. The last thing he needed now was Sherlock falling apart, because his watery eyes made him look like he was suspiciously close to that.

                The detective took his jacket with s blank face and put it on. He was in his coat, ready to go, when he asked uncertainly.

                “Can you... ymm... not tell John...?”

                “I won’t tell him today,” promised Lestrade, guessing what Sherlock wanted from him. “We can just assume for tonight that you’re a bit intoxicated. But don’t think you’ll get away with that,” he added sharply.

                “Ugh.” Sherlock just winced, either because of mentioning alcohol or a promise of a row he was to get later. He just put his mobile into his pocket and followed Lestrade.

xxx

                They didn’t manage to come back as unnoticed as Sherlock would wish.

                “Sherlock, Greg, where have you been?” asked Mrs. Hudson as soon as she saw them. She glanced suspiciously at Sherlock’s coat.

                They already had a conversation about the coat in the taxi. Lestrade tried to convince Sherlock that it was August and he really didn’t need neither his coat nor his scarf, but Sherlock remained stubborn. Unfortunately it seemed he had to remove them now... One protective layer less...

                “...we’ve got something to do.” Sherlock heard Greg saying. The inspector sent Sherlock a meaningful look saying that he might have held back for now what had happened, but he certainly wasn’t going to forget.

                Sherlock nodded thankfully and smiled at Mrs. Hudson. He removed his coat and scarf under her watchful eye and placed them on a nearby chair.

                “Janine was looking for you, dear,” said the old lady and straightened his jacket with motherly gesture before he had a chance to escape. “Such a nice girl, and you looked so nice together! The pictures are going to be lovely!” she smiled at the detective.

                Sherlock cleared his throat and  stepped back, pretending he didn’t see a smirk on Greg’s face, who was obviously having fun.

                The next moment someone caught Sherlock from behind and turned him around, nearly causing him a heart attack.

                “Mary!”

                “Here you are!” The bride smiled at him friendly. “Where the hell did you go?”

                “Ymmm...”

                “If you say I’m pregnant, I’m going to use that against you. I’m not supposed to worry, you know that, don’t you?” Mary reminded him playfully.

                “Then don’t worry,” retorted Sherlock venomously, but he couldn’t hold back a happy smile.

                “Ehh, you child.” Mary obviously had one drink too many, because she hugged the detective. Not that she had any objections to do so when she was sober.

                Sherlock stood stiffly, not knowing what to do. Despite months of acquaintance he still didn’t quite get over the fact that Mary liked him and more than that, she did the things only Mrs. Hudson was allowed to do. And Mummy, whether he liked it or not.

                “You called me a child,” he objected once the bride let him go.

                “You called yourself a child.” Sherlock heard John’s voice from behind. He turned around and grasped his friend’s inquiring look, which made him feel uncomfortable. “I understand now what you really meant.”

                “John...”

                “Nothing has changed, is that clear? It is still going to be the same way it was a few months ago” stated John.

                “Despite the fact that you won’t torture us with any more cakes or serviettes,” muttered Mary. “But John’s right, nothing changes and we’re still ‘gonna need you’,” she tried mimicking  the detective’s deep voice. “And you just promised you’ll be there,” she reminded him without  reproach. She friendly clapped his shoulder and left.

                “Are you alright?” Right now, when Mary was out of the voice reach, John was more serious.

                “Mhmm.” Sherlock felt weak, not only because of the nerves, drugs and alcohol. He had no idea what had just happened and the amount of feelings was overwhelming.

                “Why did you run away? What was so difficult you decided that drugs were a better option?” asked John quietly, after checking that no one could hear them.

                “He told you. He promised not to tell you today,” sighed Sherlock disappointedly. It was getting more uncomfortable...

                “Who, Greg? I haven’t talked to him,” denied the doctor. “I just see what I suspected from the very beginning. And I really don’t like it.”

                “John, so it will be best if I go...” Sherlock stepped away, ready to take his coat and leave the wedding, but his friend just grabbed him with his inconspicuous, strong hands.

                “Stay, you moron. I understand you left us thinking that you’re not needed anymore,” said John, and Sherlock had that unpleasant feeling that he was being deduced. He never liked being on this side of the deduction thing, especially when the deducing person was right. “So I will start with saying that you were fantastic today. An I know that everyone who knows you was afraid of your speech. And you saw their reaction.”

                “Yeah, they cried. Wonderful.”

                “The cried because they were moved by your speech,” emphasized John. “It was good, I thought I already showed you that. You have nothing to worry about, though if Mrs. Hudson told you what she told me, I can understand your anxiety,” he murmured. Sherlock remembered all the comments the old lady was making and he felt cold. “I’m not the best at...”

                “...you are...”

                “...but I will try to make myself clear. Just please listen to me this time, the last time I tried to explain that to you, you left me I didn’t even know when,” John reminded Sherlock of the bench episode. “When you promised today you’ll be there for us, it works both ways, you know. We too are going to be there for you. Me and Mary, Greg, Mrs. Hudson... We are always here for you, just like you can literally throw everything when we are in danger. So just...” John stopped suddenly. “Sherlock? No, don’t lag!”

                Sherlock again found himself in situation when he had no idea what to do or say. John had just managed to articulate all his hidden fears from the last few months and he reassured him they were groundless. And he did it in the way Sherlock believed him. This was also overwhelming, but in a pleasant way, like a cat laying on your chest. When Sherlock was little, they had a big cat that regularly went to his bed and slept on him.  This was one of these foggy memories, when Sherlock was little and he didn’t always succeed in shooing the pet away. The cat immobilized him under his quilt, but he was nice and warm. And them Mycroft would come, take the cat and say it was bad to sleep with him in one bed...

                “Sheeeerlock?”

                The detective, caught deep in his Mind Palace, realized that John started to worry because of his silence. Ha even grasped Sherlock’ wrist to check his pulse.

                “I’m fine.” Sherlock reassured him indifferently, pushing the memories away.

                “You sure? Then go and dance before people start wondering what we are talking about,” smiled John, quoting Sherlock’s previous words.

                “With you?” The detective’s mouth curled playfully.

                “God, no,” laughed the doctor. “This is going to remain a sweet mystery of the Baker Street curtains.”

                “Yeah, definitely,” agreed Sherlock.

                Janine waved at him from the dancing floor. Sherlock smiled with reserve, but the woman came to him.

                “So, are you going to dance with me or not?” she asked. “I had a chance to practice a bit, so maybe you won’t complain so much this time.”

                “It will be my pleasure.” Janine was nice and didn’t dance as bad as Sherlock had told her earlier. Maneuvering  between other people, he didn’t even see that Mary and John exchanged approving looks.

xxx

                The first impression was even worse than after the stag night, though he had to admit the bed was far more comfortable. The sun shining right on his eyes didn’t help with raging headache, and the scent of perfume made his stomach twitch in nausea. Speaking shortly - a giant hangover.

                Sherlock realized after a moment that what he was sensing was a woman’s perfume, and a familiar one. Though the light was unpleasant even through his closed eyelids, he opened his eyes and looked around. The hotel room looked like any other, but the mere fact of his presence in it didn’t fit the version of events he would like to accept, because he was going to go back home for the rest of the night. And the lilac dress hanging on a chair next to his jacket was even more alarming.

                The owner of this dress came out of the bathroom wearing just a dressing gown on her nightshirt. Seeing that Sherlock wasn’t sleeping anymore, she winked at him.

                “So you are a traditionalist, after all,” she said playfully. She was in far better state than the detective.

                “Mmm?” This certainly wasn’t the best time for deductions, even the simplest ones.

                “The best man, the bride, remember?” prompted Janine, laughing. “You sort of didn’t make it to your room.”

                “Mmm,” groaned Sherlock in response and buried his face in the pillow. He ostentatiously put a blanket over his head in a despair escape from the light.

                Janine must have misunderstood his behavior, because she came closer and patted him friendly.

                “Don’t worry, nothing happened,” she reassured him. “You just got to the wrong bed, and I didn’t feel like looking for your room.”

                Sherlock had no will nor strength to explain that she wouldn’t have found his room. If he said something right now, he would probably tell her to shut up, and that wouldn’t be very nice, considering the fact that she had let him sleep in her bed.

                “Hello, mister detective?” Janine bothered him again and she mercilessly removed the blanket. “There’s a breakfast at noon, you have half an hour to make yourself presentable.”

                “I’m not going,” muttered Sherlock into his pillow.

                “Yes, you are. John has already asked whether you’re fine,” Janine informed him. “You can have five more minutes before I dress, then the bathroom is obligatory yours.”

                Sherlock turned unwillingly so that he was facing the woman. Unlike him, she still seemed to have fun.

                “Can you, errr, not talk aloud about that wedding traditions of yours?” he asked more soberly. “Mrs. Hudson won’t leave me if she hears a word.”

                “I think it’s too late for that.”

                “Hmm?”

                “After you flirted with me the whole day with a hundred of witnesses? And after you danced with me till five in the morning?” pointed out Janine.

                “I did not!”

                “Yes, you did. I admit that trying to impress me with crime scenes was a bit odd, but after Mary warned me I didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman,” replied Janine. “And who knows, maybe I will join you, if you have a vacancy,” she added. She grabbed her dress and disappeared in the bathroom.

                Sherlock sincerely hoped that if that was ever going to happen, Mrs. Hudson would never know about that.

 


End file.
